


a little fleeting moment of chance

by crescentted19



Series: VM Alternate Universes [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, family intervention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-30 22:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17837630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentted19/pseuds/crescentted19
Summary: Tessa Virtue is a woman of structure. She knows what she wants, how she wants it, and how to get it. Her friends would call her, 'unstoppable'.Scott Moir is a man of spontaneity. His friends would call him a 'whirlwind'.Tessa would call him an asshole.When Tessa comes back home after eight years, she did not expect to have to deal with an overgrown puppy of a man causing chaos in her life. But, hey, it's not permanent, right?Wrong.





	1. Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> Before we start, I would like to clarify that I do not like writing fanfiction about real life people because they are real and have lives and make their own choices that can't be manipulated by us. However, this fic's events are all entirely fictional and contain situations in which T&S would never be caught in. I am in no way implying they should be together (let them live their own lives!) but this is a 'what if?' of a fic. OK thanks very much bye.
> 
> Also, I'm a little one from England with no idea about the fashion/skating/Canadian world in general, so please do excuse any mistakes and inaccuracies!

  
Tessa Virtue is a woman of structure.  
  
She keeps a full schedule on her phone to remind her of all of the events she has to attend, where, and for whom. She calls her mum every day at eight pm sharp, and tells her whatever is going on in her life either professionally or personally. Her entire house is white - white couches, white cushions, white walls, everything. She gets branded the ' _ice queen_ ' for this, but she knows that it makes her happy, and therefore the white stays. She has a team of people working for her who let her business be the best that it can be, while all the time creating a dynamic work environment.  
  
She also hates surprises.  
  
Which is why, as she is stood in her Montréal flat at nine am clutching a Venti Caffè Misto (she is  _not_ a morning person) and shouting down the phone at her publicist, she would not consider this one of her finest moments.  
  
'No, Jen! We were  _promised_ that this collection would be ready in time for Toronto Fashion Week, and there's only one week left! We've booked the models, the runway,  _everything_ and now _everything_ is going to go down the drain!' she yells dramatically into her iPhone.   
  
'I know, Tess, it's just...' begins her publicist and closest friend, Jen. They'd known each other since college, having both studied at McGill and finding a common bond in the 'little fish, big pond' vibe they both emitted being from tiny rural towns. 'It's just the funding fell through. Your investor pulled out.'  
  
'Wha - How could that happen? They've been telling me for  _weeks_ that everything was fine and a-go for the début, and suddenly they've had a  _change of heart_?!'  
  
Tessa knows she is being ridiculous. She should keep a level head and remain calm, and endeavour to solve the problem, just as her mum had taught her. Today, however, she feels the situation requires more than a deep breath.   
  
'I know.' Jen repeats, sounding stressed on the other end of the line. 'But they said we could have it all ready for September instead, and, you know, it could give you more time to fine-tune all your designs and make sure everything's  _perfect_ like you like it to be, and -'  
  
'You're rambling, Jennifer.'  
  
Tessa hears a deep breath. 'It's a shitty situation, Tessa, but we can't fight back. Their decision is final.'  
  
Traitorous tears prick at Tessa's eyes and a lump forms in her throat as she realises that her dream, everything she has worked towards for eight years, is being shattered.   
  
'...I'm sorry, Jen. I just thought that everything was going to go off without a hitch. I shouldn't have yelled.'  
  
'It's OK, Tess. I'll get back to you later, I have to deal with the fallout and cancel the promotional events.' Her professional tone is cutting, however she tacks on a quick, 'Love you, Tess', before leaving Tessa to her misery and lukewarm coffee.  
  
As she hears the silence on the other end of the phone, Tessa sinks to the ground and does the first thing that comes to her mind.  
  
'Mum?' she asks tearfully, a sob bubbling past her lips as her mother's face appears on her screen.  
  
'Yeah, Tutu? I thought you'd call later, are you ok?' she responds, before seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks.  
  
Tessa shakes her head like a toddler. 'It's all gone wrong, mum. Can I come home?'

 

* * *

 

 

Waking up in her childhood bedroom is not something Tessa is used to. She's never been home for more than a couple of days at Christmas time, popping in to say hi to the family and to see her nieces and nephews before heading back to city life to work more on her latest project. She knows that she owes her family - her mum, more than anyone - a lot more time, but she is a very important person in the fashion industry now. Or, at least, she's getting there. Huffington Post Canada recently featured her on their Style page, branding her 'up and coming' in the cutthroat industry. She's worked hard to reach this point that any thought of visiting home outside of national holidays has completely slipped her mind.  
  
The sun streams in gently through the gaps in her shutters, partially illuminating her teenaged self's belongings that have laid mostly untouched since she moved away. Her Toronto Bluejays baseball cap is still hung up on a peg on the back of her door on top of the London Knights jersey her ex-boyfriend had bought her when they'd gone to see a game at the Budweiser Gardens. How long ago was that now? Nine, ten years ago?  
  
She marvels at how quickly a decade can speed by when you're not paying attention.  
  
'Morning, mum.' she says when she finds the motivation to roll out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen. She kisses her mother gently on the cheek, and Kate reaches out to cup her cheek gently.  
  
'Good morning, Tutu. Did you sleep well? Feeling any better?' she implores, looking at Tessa with big, earnest eyes that match hers perfectly. She knows that her mum only wants the best for her, especially after recent events, but her honesty and warmth after so many years of staying away makes her heart hurt just a little bit. She looks down quickly, pushing the strands of hair that fell out of her braid behind her ears, before clearing her throat gently.  
  
'Yeah. It was a long journey yesterday... lots of trains, so... I'm just glad I could get a bit of rest. It's all been so crazy.' she replies, fiddling with the loose threads on her pyjamas that she's surprised she still fits into. She's not lying per se; she did travel for what seemed like days yesterday, and so falling into the covers of her double bed felt like a warm embrace as she cried until she passed out. She won't tell her mum that, though. She doesn't want her to worry.  
  
'That's good, honey. If you need anything, you let me know.' her mum responds, and Tessa is glad for the lack of questioning even though her eyes betray a sense of doubt at her words. She smiles gently, before placing a stack of French toast at a spot at the kitchen counter.  
  
'I, uh, don't know if you've gone all Francophile on me now that you're up in Quebec,' she begins, 'but I know that these have always cheered you up.'  
  
Tessa knows her mum is trying. One hour per day with her daughter for eight years straight must be difficult. She knows this, and a sense of guilt rises up. However, Tessa knows to take the metaphorical olive branch when it is offered.  
  
'Thanks, mum.'  
  
She eats her breakfast in relative companionship, grateful for the silence and not being forced to talk about her... predicament.   
  
'So...' Kate begins, breaking her from her melancholy reverie. 'I'm meeting up with Alma today for brunch, but you can stay here if you want to. Or not. You haven't seen the town for a long time, so that would be nice.'   
  
Tessa smiles and hums noncommittally. She doesn't know who Alma is, but she knows that asking about her mother's brunch-mates is an entirely different can of worms to open and ends with all of the community's deepest secrets unveiled in two minutes flat.

'I might go for a jog. Stretch the legs.' Tessa answers, placing her dirty dish in the kitchen sink. She would clean it herself, but for now, she wants nothing more than to have a hot shower and avoid thinking about all her life's issues.

Her mother nods in response, shouting to her as Tessa climbs the stairs, 'Ring me if you need anything!'

 

* * *

 

_Now this is more like it!_

  
Her feet slap the sidewalk rhythmically as she pushes her legs to go further. There is a burn running through her calves and shins, but with the sweat pouring down her face and a Madonna and Justin Timberlake track pumping through her headphones, she doesn't really care. She feels  _alive_ \- the worries of yesterday, and her stupid runway show are momentarily forgotten as she allows her body to be tested in a way that it hasn't since she gave up ballet.   
  
Another good thing about running is that she doesn't have to stop to wave hello to anybody that she knows. She has seen her old math teacher who she always hated and smelled like her six cats. She skillfully avoided Mick the General Store guy and Dolores the town gossip by swerving down a side street. Tessa Virtue doesn't have to be Tessa Virtue, the brand, the label, in her tiny town. Sure, people know her here, but it's so quiet that nothing can really bother her.  
  
She crashes face first into a man's back, rebounding and landing straight on her ass on the floor.  
  
'Hey!' she hears, the man's tone angry and likely something she doesn't want to engage with.  
  
'I'm so sorry, I was distracted and I wasn't looking where -'   
  
'Tessa?!'  
  
The man cuts her off. Come to think of it, she kind of recognises the voice...  
  
'Chiddy!' she exclaims delightedly, taking the proffered hand to help her up and immediately enveloping him in a massive hug. 'Oh my God! How are you? I haven't seen you in, like,  _forever_!'  
  
'Hey Tess,' he replies with a laugh. 'I'm great, when did you get back into town? It was just Christmas, I swear!'   
  
Tessa knows he's joking, but it still stings as she realises just how much her work/life balance has become a work/work balance. She really has neglected her little town.   
  
'Oh, yesterday, but I decided it would be nice to be back home without the stress of having the whole family in one house.' she replies. It's a lie, but she doesn't feel prepared to bare her soul to her childhood friend while dripping with sweat.  
  
'Ah, well it's great to have you back!'  
  
Chiddy has always had this big smile that lit up his whole face. He and Tessa were a year apart in school, but they made friends in the playground thanks to his quiet, friendly nature. The always had each other's backs - that is, until Tessa left.  
  
'Hey, we're having this little get-together - all the old-timers - and it would be really great if you could come. You know, say hi to the gang and all that.' he asks excitedly. God, Tessa hasn't seen everyone in _so long_. There's Eric the Friendly Giant, Andrew, Kaitlyn, and... Scott. If she's being honest, Tessa wouldn't necessarily say that she and Scott Moir were  _friends_. More like  _mutual acquaintances_. She didn't know a single thing about him - nor him about her - and she didn't mind it one bit. He was always that kid who always got into trouble but then got off (fittingly) scot-free. He was simply too much chaos for her organized little mind to keep up with, therefore at their gatherings they would avoid each other and tolerate each other's presence. But surely Scott had made his way out of Ilderton after all these years.  
  
'That sounds great, Chiddy. Just what I need after so much time away, I'd love a big catchup!' she says enthusiastically. 'The same spot?'  
  
'You betcha!' Chiddy replies, before glancing hurriedly at his watch. 'Hey, I've got to run, but I'll see you later, OK?'  
  
'Bye!' Tessa shouts chirpily, before making her way back home - this time, with only one earbud in to reduce the potential number of casualties.

 

* * *

 

There's only one place in Ilderton worth going to in the evenings: the King Edward. Serving poutine and beer, pandering to every Canadian everywhere. Also, critically, the only bar this way of London.   
  
Tessa basically grew up here between the ages of sixteen and eighteen - when she wasn't meeting up with her good-for-nothing ex. Even though the legal drinking age is nineteen, they had always found a way around it. Eric was the cousin of someone they all knew, and at some point, he just became part of the group. Most importantly, he was a few years older than most of them, and so they got around that rule pretty easily. She remembers nights full of Jägerbombs, bad karaoke, table hockey and the first time she threw up while drunk. She'll never forget it.  
  
Much like the rest of the town, the Kind Edward has not changed one bit in nearly a decade. Tessa remembers being stifled by the fixed reality of life in Ilderton. Now, it's a stable rock for her to cling to as the rest of her life rushes past her.  
  
Pushing open the door, Tessa instinctively knows where to go. The gang used to hog a table near the back, all of them stuffed in a circle and being generally raucous and loud every single weekend night. And, judging by the sound of it, _that_ hasn't changed, either.  
  
' _Tessie!_ ' she hears being shouted across the room. Other patrons give the source the evil eye, but the speaker just stands up and hurtles towards her.  
  
'Eric, hey!' she laughs, engulfing him in a massive hug, and she follows him back to the table.  
  
She can see her old best friend Kaitlyn, with Andrew next to her, arm slung across the back of the chair.  _Interesting development_ , she thinks, and quickly stoops down to embrace her friends.  
  
'Long time, no see, eh? Chiddy here told us you were coming, but we couldn't be sure with you, little miss Up-And-Coming!' Andrew greets her. Once again,  _another_ reminder about how lousy she is at visiting. She gets it by this point.   
  
'Yep, almost bowled him over outside the food store.' she jests in response, taking her usual (or, what used to be her usual) spot next to Kaitlyn.  
  
She's very aware that there's someone missing from their little group. But, if she's being honest, she doesn't entirely mind.  
  
Before she knows it, a pint of beer is placed down in front of her, and Tessa is being bombarded with enough questions to rival a press conference.  _Maybe I should have brought the PR team_.  
  
'How's things up in Montréal? I heard you're getting noticed in the  _biz_.' prods Kaitlyn, gently nudging her with her elbow.  
  
'Yeah, Tessie, you always seem so busy.'  
  
'Do you speak French yet?' Andrew asks in his doe-eyed endearing manner.  
  
Tessa rolls her eyes at her old nickname. Only Eric gets to call her Tessie - it's his thing. Like an older brother. Though, of course, Tessa already has two older brothers, but Eric bought her alcohol when she was underaged, so tomato, tomato.  
  
'It's... going great. We're all gearing up to get a collection out relatively soon, and things are just so hectic back at home. And you _know_ I'm bad at languages.' she responds all at once. She's not strictly lying. Sure, it might take another year rather than one month to see her dreams be realised, but doesn't that count as 'soon'?  
  
Kaitlyn claps excitedly, clearly having had a couple of drinks herself. 'You  _have_ to let me see! Will they be in Fashion Week? I always keep up with all of the shows and it would be  _so cool_ to see all your stuff there!'  
  
Well, she's thrown her in a loop there.  
  
'Um,' Tessa begins. 'You see, actually... there was -'  
  
'Well look who it is. Hey, T.'  
  
A swaggering voice comes from behind her, dripping in charisma and loudness. Everything that she hates.  
  
'To what do we owe this pleasure?'  
  
Five seconds in, and he's already grating on her nerves. That's got to be a record.  
  
'You know I don't like that name, Scott.' she responds curtly, throwing a look over her shoulder.  
  
Bright hazel-brown eyes look back at her, a wide grin playing at the corners. She'd recognise them anywhere.   
  
And  _boy_ , Scott Moir got buff.  
  
'Good to see you Scottie. Glad you could join us.'  
  
Scott bounds over to the vacant seat between Chiddy and Andrew, gently cuffing Chiddy on the side of the head.  
  
'Don't call me that,  _Patrick_. Practice ran over. Couldn't get out. Though I would have tried harder if I knew that  _mademoiselle_ was joining us!'  
  
He waggles his eyebrows over in Tessa's direction, and Tessa responds with a deprecating look cold enough to freeze water. Scott Moir has always known just how to get on her bad side, and she sees that eight years has done nothing to solve that.  
  
She doesn't quite know how all six of them became friends. She and Chiddy were best friends out of preschool, then she and Kaitlyn were always in each other's classes in primary, and with her brought Andrew, and Eric looked after them, and Scott was just... there. When sober, they avoided each other. When drunk, they taunted each other mercilessly until someone got mad. Tessa usually won. But it seems like the rest of the group have been meeting up pretty solidly since she'd left, and Tessa can't help but feel a sense of not fitting in in a group where she was previously a key piece. There was a dysphoria surrounding her as she saw what she had missed.  
  
Scott had grown up. Kaitlyn and Andrew were seemingly together. Chiddy was no longer painfully shy, but instead openly teased and joked with the others. Eric was still a loveable giant, but he was nearing thirty now. Somewhere, they had all become adults together, and Tessa had missed it.  
  
'All good, T?'  
  
Eric's voice cut through her bittersweet musings, bringing her back to the table with a jolt.  
  
'Yeah, sorry... I'm still quite tired from my journey, that's all. I should probably head home quite early.' she responds.  
  
'What, and miss out on all the  _fun_?' Scott pipes up from directly across the table to her. 'If I remember correctly, you still owe me a game of table hockey. Because you couldn't handle that I  _beat your ass_ multiple times.'  
  
Here's the Scott she knows and doesn't love. Behind the cocky persona lies a child who loves to incite a reaction out of others. Tessa is already exhausted of it.  
  
'You must be remembering wrong, Moir. Because, the way that  _I_ remember it,  _you're_ the one who passed out in the snow before we could finish. New Year's Eve, 2006. Therefore, your argument is null and void.'  
  
'Ah, but T,' (she narrows her eyes at this,) 'I recall dragging  _you_ out of here at closing time after demanding rematch after rematch. So, what's the truth?'  
  
Their friends watch on intently between the challenge being set forward. Kaetlyn slowly sips her drink, eyes darting back and forth like she's watching a tennis match. Seeing if Tessa will back down.  
  
Tessa has never been one to back down.  
  
'OK, fine, you're on. But mark my words, Moir, I  _will_ win.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, playing table hockey in a crowded bar with your not-friend doesn't end as well as Tessa would have hoped.
> 
> Plus, we get out first skating episode!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tessa and Scott can be with whoever they want to be, do whatever they want to and I'd still support their wonderful skating until the cows come home. 
> 
> Happy Olympic Gold Anniversary for tomorrow!

'No! Come on Moir, one more game!'  
  
Tessa hits her striker against the table as a three year old would. This is something that she had forgotten happened; when drunk, she loses all class and general taste, and instead transforms into a toddler. Back in Montréal, the most she would drink was a glass of wine with dinner or, on special occasions, a glass of champagne. It seems that her good habits have come back to bite her in the ass, though, because now she is two tequila shots and four beers deep and in very serious danger of making a fool of herself on a Wednesday night in front of the whole town.  
  
Scott just looks back at her with that shit eating grin ( _god_ , she hates him) and wags a finger towards her.  
  
'No can do, T, I have won two rounds fair and square. Even if you're going for best of three, there's no way you can win.'  
  
He is so condescending, and patronising, and a loser, and... and... a poopy head.  
  
Dear  _Lord_ she needs to stop.  
  
'Are you scared,  _Scottie_?' she drawls, raising one eyebrow in a clear challenge. 'I say, we make this one all or nothing.'  
  
She's slurring a bit. She makes the executive decision (because she's a business woman) to ignore it.  
  
Scott visibly bristles at being called the nickname, but stands his guard.  
  
'Come on kiddo, let's leave it alone.'   
  
Tessa sees red.  
  
'You can't call me  _kiddo_! We're, what? The same age! Just because you're afraid of losing to a girl,' she begins, rounding the table to face him, 'that doesn't mean you get to be a douche!'  
  
She sticks out a finger to poke him in the chest. She misses slightly, but it still punctuates her point. Tessa thinks she's done quite well. She could have kept her cool slightly better, but that's something to work on a bit later.  
  
Before she knows what's happening, a hand clasps around her extended pointer finger that's still prodding Scott in the chest, and he ducks his head down.   
  
She did  _not_ see that one coming. She's not interested, and she can't possibly imagine what gave him that impression. This is just awkward now. She quickly turns her face to the side.  
  
'Uh, T?' she hears in a low tone near her ear. 'I think you're making a scene, don't you?'  
  
From her vantage point, she can see Chiddy sat at their table next to a pretty brunette, staring at the two of them in return with a certain expression of both amusement and horror. The pub has filled up in the past hour as well, so Mick the General Store guy and Dolores are occupying two bar stools. Them, and the rest of Ilderton, it seems like.  
  
And they're all trying staring at them.  
  
At least Mick has the decency to look down into his pint.  
  
'Shut up!' Tessa lashes out, pulling her hand free and giving her captor a shove. ' _You're_ the one who started this, Moir. If you're not going to finish it, then at least have the decency to say so, you coward!'  
  
She's feeling quite warm. And yet cold. At the same time. It's a funny feeling. One that she vaguely remembers, though hasn't felt in a long time. She wonders why.   
  
Chiddy is exchanging a look with Scott. She sees him furrow his eyebrow slightly, and throw a glance her way quickly.  _Rude_ _!_ she thinks, and when Scott lets out a quick bark of laughter she realises she said it aloud.   
  
It really is a strange feeling, this. Her stomach starts churning with... fear? No, there's nothing here but an overgrown puppy of a man being a dick. So what  _is_ it then?  
  
She claps a hand over her mouth and runs for the door.

 

* * *

 

Here's the thing about the Canadian winter; it's cold. Like, really cold. Like, minus two at midday. Like, actually  _freezing_.  
  
Which is why vomiting into a red and white striped flowerbed (patriotic!) is made even worse as an experience.  
  
She should have known this would happen. It's an age-old rule in their group that the loser takes a shot. She lost a _lot_ tonight. And with her recent drinking history, it's no surprise that she's currently spewing all over the sidewalk around the corner from the King Edward. Outside of someone's house.  
  
Yeah, low point.  
  
She's dry heaving again as she hears footsteps behind her. This is mortifying - barely anyone knows that she's home anyway, so she'd love to greet her old dance teacher like this. That would be the icing on the cake of a shitty thirty-six hours.  
  
'This isn't how I usually act, you know.' she begins, still hunched over. 'This is quite a one-off thing.'  
  
'I seem to remember it a lot from circa-2006, actually. You sure haven't changed, T.'  
  
For  _fuck's sake_.  
  
'Go away, Scott.' she says angrily, before feeling another wave of nausea. Yeah, that would be  _really_  effective at proving her point.  
  
She feels his hands pull her hair away from her face. She would yell at him, but if the other option is vomit in her hair, then she'd really take the help.  
  
'...Thanks.' she says reluctantly as the bout passes. She slides down the fence onto the sidewalk and leans her head back against the wood panelling. It's going to hurt like a  _bitch_ tomorrow, she just knows. She opens her eyes slowly and sees Scott looking at her with a furrowed brow, standing awkwardly as if not knowing what to do. She sees he's clutching a plastic cup full of a clear liquid in his hand.  
  
'That had better not be vodka.' Tessa jokes half-heartedly, her mouth feeling like it's full of cotton and her throat sore. Scott chuckles a bit in response.   
  
'No, it's water, no worries.'  
  
He hands her the cup and she looks at him suspiciously. 'It is poisoned?' She can never be sure with Scott Moir. Everything is a practical joke to him.  
  
'Yes. My favourite thing to do is kill my childhood friends in a bid to remain the town favourite.' he deadpans back to her with a quirk of his eyebrow.  
  
Tessa takes a large mouthful, swills it around in her mouth, then spits it out next to her.  
  
'Cute.' he says with a look of disgust on his face. She just flips him the bird, then starts drinking. After a few sips, she looks up. He had said something that had bothered her.  
  
'We're not friends.'  
  
Scott's brow lowers even more - _he's going to need a_ _lot_ _of botox to fix those wrinkles_ , her drunk brain provides - and replies,  
  
'Are you sure?'  
  
'Yes. You're like that one cousin who is always there and you just have to tolerate.'  
  
'You wound me, kiddo.' he says, covering his heart with his hand in faux-offence.   
  
Tessa is far too drunk to protest to the moniker.   
  
'Can you get up?' he asks, offering his hand. Tessa refuses it with a mild  _harrumph_ , and skilfully totters to her feet. Or, a least, she does for about two seconds, before her legs give out and she's back on the floor again. She looks up at Scott, eyes wide in defeat (and how she hates it), and shakes her head matter-of-factly. He laughs at her misfortune briefly ( _asshole_ ), and bends down to her.  
  
'Moir, this is not the aim of the exercise.'  
  
'No, but this is.'  
  
Before she knows it, she's over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, with his arms clamped down over her knees to stop her from escaping.   
  
'H- HEY!' she shouts indignantly, pounding her fists weakly against his back in a futile attempt to get him to put her down. 'Let go, you ass!'  
  
'Come on, T, let's get you home. And be quiet. It's past eleven.'  
  
'You be quiet.' she retorts wittily, giggling to herself. She's past the point of no return by now, and she knows that once she gets giddy she'll get tired and weepy very quickly.  
  
'Good one.' she hears spoken sarcastically in response, before she passes out.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, her head immediately protests any single glimmer of light in the room, and her stomach does enough flips to win gold at the Olympics. It feels like something is pressing down on her forehead and the stinging pain somehow manages to pierce right through to the back of her head, resulting in some serious discomfort for nine am on a Thursday morning. Cracking one eye half open -  _ow_ _!_ \- she can spot a glass of water next to two pills on her nightstand. Propping herself up on one elbow, she quickly swallows both before her gut has any time to protest. Sighing, she falls back onto her pillow, pulling her hair back from her face.   
  
A gentle shave-and-a-haircut knock comes from her door, and she weakly taps back a 'two bits' on her bed frame. Slowly, her bedroom door opens, and Kate tiptoes in carrying a tray with a plate and a mug on it. God bless her mother; Tessa could really do with a coffee on a morning like this.  
  
'Hey, mum,' she greets, her throat scratchy and parched, sitting up in bed and crossing her legs. Her mum sits herself on the corner of the bed, placing the tray down between them. It's a plate of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup (what else?) and just what she needs. 'Thanks.' she says, kissing her mum on the cheek.  
  
'You okay, honey?' asks her mother, again with that same all-knowing gaze she seems to always have on when Tessa's around. Tessa nods a response, picking up the coffee and taking a small sip.   
  
'Yeah, thanks. I met up with the gang last night and... we hit it pretty hard, I guess.' she responds with a twinge of embarrassment. She's twenty five years old, and yet the second she gets back home for longer than a day she's acting like a green teenager.   
  
Her mother hums in acknowledgment, raising her eyebrows slightly. 'Dolores told me. She said you and that Moir boy. And he took you home last night.'  
  
Oh fuck.  
  
She turns and gives Tessa a questioning look. Tessa knows how this must look. But  _surely_ her mum knows that it couldn't be farther from the truth!  
  
She splutters slightly on her coffee and shouts indignantly (unfortunately for her pounding headache), 'MOM! No! You  _know_ I've always hated him. He was just there and Kaitlyn and Andrew had gone, and Chiddy was talking to a girl, and Eric had disappeared to God know's where, so he was the best I could do.'  
  
'Dolores says that you made quite the scene last night.'  
  
Tessa knows that she can't deny that. Instead, she looks down. She's a grown adult, and she probably disturbed some people's evenings. It was a very inconsiderate and overdramatic way for her to act. She should get the proprietors a fruit basket.  
  
'Is everything okay? I know I ask that a lot, but...' Kate trails off with a slight humourless chuckle, 'I don't ever know if you're telling me the truth. I know you've just taken a huge blow, and you come home and do something like  _this_ , and I do worry about you. Eight years, you were gone. That's a long time.'  
  
'We spoke every day, mum.' Tessa replies, avoiding eye contact.  
  
'I know. But, it's different to... this.' Her mother gives her a wan smile and pats her knee across the bed. 'You know you can tell me anything, right? If you're not doing as well as you say, well... I won't judge. You know I never would.'  
  
With that, her mum gets up and exits her room, closing the door gently behind her.  
  
She knows her mum means the best, but right now, Tessa's feeling pretty shitty.

 

* * *

 

In just under an hour (okay, maybe a  _little_ more), Tessa is out of the house and walking down the streets that used to be so familiar to her. Her favourite neighbours lived across the street from her, and she used to play with their daughter who was a year older than her. Her mum tells her that they moved away while she was gone.  
  
The January air is crisp on her skin and her nose is tingling from the cold. It's a sunny day, but that means that it's deceptively colder than anyone expected. Tessa doesn't mind. She's wrapped up in her big coat and scarf and hat, and the cold air has always cleared her lungs and helped her breathe a little bit deeper. That's what she needs today, after a night of heavy drinking and an emotional rollercoaster from her mum before she'd even cut into her breakfast. She reminisces on days gone by, eighteen freckly summers, countless games of tag spent in these very streets. She doesn't know if she misses it; she does actually like her job and life in Montréal, but there's something about a small town life that is strangely appealing. When she was younger, she'd dreamed of leaving and becoming famous and successful. Her younger self didn't know how hard it was.  
  
In her reverie, she's walked further than she thought she would go today. She walks up to the War Memorial outside of the Arena, and takes a moment to remember the sacrifices they made for her today. Surely, it's got to count for something, right?  
  
She then looks up at the Arena. The big blue building where she spent countless hours here as a kid learning how to skate relatively averagely; her siblings were always much more athletically able than she was, but she still remembers the rush she felt when she landed her first axel jump.  
  
Before she knows it, her feet are carrying her up the long path towards the entrance, and when inside she takes in the massive building. It's bigger than she remembers it. That's weird, because she was so small back then, but if anything it seems the building grew with her. She sees the skate hire booth, and she doesn't know why she does it, but she is compelled to rent a pair of skates. For old time's sake.  
  
'Hey, Carol.' she says subduedly (she's still hungover, of course).  
  
'Hi, Tessa! Good to see you back. What brings you here?' Carol replies. Carol had always been this chirpy woman who could get anything done. Until she had stopped skating, she had idolised her.  
  
'I'd... like to have a spin. If you don't mind.' she says shyly. She doesn't want to mess up in front of her former coach. That would just be embarrassing.   
  
Carol is delighted, of course. Tessa tells her her size, and Carol waves off any form of payment she attempts to give (' _anything for you, Big Hands_ ' she says, referring to Tessa's massive gloves from when she was younger) and soon she's all laced up and ready to go.  
  
She has to wait for a few minutes for the men's hockey practice to finish up, but soon they come bustling off of the ice, playfully hitting each other and laughing noisily and each other's jokes. Tessa stays quite flat to the wall for that one. Soon, she's at the boards, and she places one foot shakily onto the ice. It takes her a second to centre her balance, her foot slipping uncontrollably for a second, but she manages to find her footing - on both feet. Considering how it's been nearly twenty years since she's done this, she's pretty pleased with herself.  
  
She pushes off of the side, her limbs slightly clunky and uncoordinated on the slippery surface, but soon she's stroking a circuit around the rink. Just like old times. She's missed this, really. She thinks it's the closest she can get to flying without actually being in the air; the cold wind whipping around her face, her body speeding along, and there comes an immense feeling of freedom. Something she's lost in the past couple of decades begins to resurface, and a wide smile breaks out. She could do  _anything_.  
  
Tessa's favourite trick was always a spiral. She used to show off in front of the waiting parents by going in circles and circles, until she was giddy from dizziness and laughing. She might as well give it another go, right? Nothing to lose.  
  
She strokes, then raises one leg up slowly, higher, higher, until she's in an arabesque shape. She extends her arms and looks up, feeling a childlike sense of wonder and excitement she hasn't felt in a while. Sometimes, Tessa thinks that  _this_ was always what she was meant to do; there's nothing like the feeling of the world racing by and the ice under her blade.  
  
'Watch it!' comes a shout from around her. Tessa jolts, opens her eyes again, and sees the boards rushing up towards her. She tries to stop, but it turns out that no practice in twenty years doesn't bode well. She crashes straight into the side, whacking her hip and losing her balance. She feels an immediate shooting pain in her side, and presses on it gently with both hands.  
  
'Hey! You okay?' the disembodied voice shouts again, and she looks up to see someone clambering out onto the ice in... hockey skates?  
  
He looks up, and Tessa once again curses her misfortune.  
  
'Yeah. Dandy.' she replies through gritted teeth, attempting to regain her footing and clinging onto the boards.   
  
Now that he sees it's her, he slowly skates over ( _jackass_ ), performing a perfect T-stop just before reaching her.  
  
'Can you get up?' he asks, with a quirk of his eyebrow, and Tessa is flooded with a memory of him from last night asking those exact same words. 'Seems you just can't help falling for me, T.'  
  
'Yeah, I'd like a bit of help, thanks.' she says angrily, and soon he grabs her by the elbows as she struggles to find her balance without her limbs pulling a full Bambi on her. 'You know that was your fault, right?' she says with venom, and Scott scoffs before replying, offended,  
  
'Me? You were the one hurtling at a hundred miles per hour straight at the boards, kiddo.'  
  
He's not wrong, but Tessa won't let him off that easily.  
  
'What's wrong with a simple, ' _mind the boards!_ '? I thought there was an emergency!'  
  
He laughs with a hint of malice. 'There's always an emergency around you T, isn't there?'  
  
Tessa fumes at this. 'Likewise for you. Troublemaker.'  
  
Scott laughs properly at that one. Tessa wonders what's so funny. She also realises quickly that he's far too close for comfort, still holding her loosely by the arms. Snatching back her limbs, she rolls her eyes at him, which only makes him laugh harder.  _What a man child_ , she thinks, looking down to avoid him as much as possible.  
  
'Hey, do you play hockey now?' she asks him out of the blue, surprising the both of them. Scott looks at her curiously, before saying slowly,  
  
'...Yes?'   
  
He's looking at her like she's insane. 'It's just, I never knew you did.'  
  
He smiles a coy smile, replying, 'Well, I guess I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?'  
  
She returns the smile quickly and without warmth. It is time for her to go. She has embarrassed herself far too much in the past twelve hours that surely any more time spent with this man would be disastrous for the both of them.  
  
'Yeah, well,' she says quickly, skating backwards towards the exit, 'this was nice and all, but I have to go now.'  
  
He's gone back to looking at her strangely, before yelling back, 'Catch you later!'  
  
Tessa's brow furrows slightly. 'Weren't you leaving as well?' she asks, remembering that hockey practice was over and the ice was now empty.  
  
He turns back towards her, and shrugs noncommittally. 'Yeah, I'm gonna stay on for a little bit longer.'  
  
At a loss for a response, Tessa simply nods and replies with a meek, 'okay', before making her way off of the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such an immense support on the first chapter! This is only my second fic so I'm not too experienced in the medium, but if you added a nice comment it made my day!
> 
> I churned this chapter out pretty quickly because I was so excited after yesterday, but I probably won't update for a little while longer because I have so much school work to get done.
> 
> XX


	3. NOT AN UPDATE

Hi guys, thank you so much for the positive response to this! I fully intend to keep going and in fact have the first portion of the next chapter drafted in my phone notes.

 

 _However_ , I have really big exams coming up which obviously take precedence over this story. So, in a month or two I will be free and have everything back up and running! Thank you to those commenting still and asking me to update, it's really encouraging especially as this is my first RPF fic so I want to tread lightly.

 

In the meantime, I would like to hear where you want this story to go; I have some ideas of the direction in which I am going, as well as the twists and turns it's going to take. But if there's anything you'd like to see, just let me know!

 

You can follow me on Twitter at virtchmoir97 to see my generally crazy reactions to T&S and the chaos of the ice dance community if you so wish.

 

Lots of love, Ted x


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